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Chapter 50: The Last Bowl
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Chapter 52: Hunter’s Greeting
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... ly over the blood-soaked clearing, flakes melting as they touched the bodies strewn across the ground. Crimson painted the frost like spilled ink on parchment—five corpses, twisted, burned, sliced apart in unnatural ways. The fire from earlier had dimmed, leaving only faint orange coals and the acrid scent of blood and ash.
Trafalgar stumbled back, his knees buckling as he collapsed onto the frozen ground. He landed hard, sitting with his legs outstretched, chest heaving. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ� ...
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